The Oathtakers
by Scotch on the Rocks
Summary: Marauder's Era. Told through the PoV of Emmeline Vance: Pureblood, Ravenclaw, Prefect... Her idyllic world is thrown asunder when her father vanishes. Suddenly, her friends and values seem ignorant and everything she's ever known feels completely wrong.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I often find myself sitting in my place by the window, wondering where everything had gone wrong, seeing if there was something- _anything_ -I could have done to save them. I look back at the simple choices I've made and try to find the exact moment where everything blew up in our faces. I fail, of course, just as I always have.

I'm the last of us, of those who took the oath following graduation; _"Don't ever stop fighting against the Darkness; Don't lose faith in the Good Fight; Keep your bonds with each other strong and truthful; We are the Ones of the Class of '78." _Merlin, were we naive; believing that we could change the world.

I've had the pleasure of laying to Eternal rest each of my friends, something I won't soon forget. To think I was the most thick-headed of the group, the one who needed the most convincing. I could have gone either way -- the Knights of Walpurgis were practically begging me to align with them. I would have, too, had it not been for him. Sweet Dear, I think about you everyday. I know you would wish me to get on with things, but how could I love another man when you spoiled me so?

But with that single drop of blood, I bound myself to continuing the Good Fight, no matter how hopeless it was deemed. Here I am, still fighting. I wanted to give up a thousand times over, but I wanted to please you all, as I'm sure you're watching over me. At least that's what I tell myself every morning when I wake up.

I ramble, as I tend to do. I began reminiscing over those lost years, desperately trying to escape from this unblinking hell I now find myself in. A world where our only hope rests with a little sixteen year-old boy. God save us all.


	2. Chapter 1 The Board is Set

**Chapter One -- _The Board is Set_**

"_Early last evening Ministry officials were called to the home of Edith and Franklin Towler when a glowing green light was spotted hovering over their house. This seems to be one of the same marks used by the recently named Death Eaters, alleged supporters of the Dark Lord. With the recent murders of the Towlers, the death toll has now been raised to forty-three murders attributed to Pureblood fascists. Wizards are warned once again to keep to themselves and not to publicly discuss their political affiliations."_

I snorted, tossing the newspaper down onto the table and looking to my friends for further encouragement. "This is getting ridiculous," I began loudly, "Gone are the days when a witch can freely lend her support to the continuation of our Pureblood lineage without being deemed a Death Eater."

Hestia smirked, winking slyly at me; raised together as small children, our views usually ran together. "I agree with Emmeline, we shouldn't be cowed into suppressing our heritage. Are we to blame because we come from a long line of skilled families?"

I grinned and raised my juice goblet in her honour. "Hear, hear!" I cried, taking a sip. The others at the table shifted nervously in their seats or moved the food around their breakfast plates. Dorcas frowned and looked to her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. Setting my jaw, I prepared for an argument. "All right, Dor? You seem a bit confounded."

"Don't get us wrong," interrupted Hestia, batting her lashes innocently, "We have nothing against Muggle borns," she continued, the last words dripping off her tongue with a deadly weight.

"Nothing at all."

"We only think it wrong that we're being demerited for being of Pureblood."

Dorcas remained quiet, as she always did, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and turning back to her reading. I rolled my eyes, meeting Hestia's. We exchanged a secretive nod and silently collected our books, rising in one fluid movement.

"Bleeding tart," I muttered once we were out of earshot. "She's like a sponge the way she sits there so quietly, soaking up every word we say." She nods compliantly, her black hair falling down her shoulders, "It's a wonder she ever made it into Ravenclaw. If it were up to me she'd be a little Huffie. Don't you think she'd make an absolutely adorable Huffie?"

We were interrupted when Regulus Black crossed our path, arms folded smugly over his chest. I raised an eyebrow and smiled at the handsome Slytherin. "Lost, Reg? Hes here would be happy to show you around." I felt a sharp dig in my ribs as my friend turned a bright shade of fuchsia.

"And I would be happy to let her," he said coyly, blatantly eying her. "But another time, perhaps? I was actually wondering what you two ladies were doing over Yule." She rolled her eyes, or at least I expected her to. "I'm going home, of course, but our dear Emmeline has elected to stay at Hogwarts -- of all places -- over break."

"And she can't be persuaded to join us in London?" Regulus asked Hestia. It was as if I was no longer standing there, as the two were locked in a heated gaze. I waited it out, knowing it couldn't last _too_ long. She cleared her throat, proving me right. "I'm afraid she can't; she's determined to spend it completely alone."

"I have my reasons," I answered gravely, scraping the ground with my dragon-hide boot. Hestia sensed my mood and stands up a bit taller. "Well, we'll be seeing you, Regulus." As we left, I heard him quietly reply, "I hope so."

She nearly swooned and fell against me, grinning like a little school girl. "I just want to tear off his clothes and do unmentionable things to him!" she screeched, startling some Second Years who are passing us in the corridor. "Stop telling me these things and actually do it!" I replied, "But wait! You wouldn't know what to do when... _if_ you ever got there."

"But don't you think Regulus would be a good wizard to learn from?" she asked, her blue eyes unnaturally large. I shook my head and continued on to our NEWT Charms class. She staggered slightly behind, completely submerged in her Black fantasy. I slid into our usual table and dropped my books with a heavy thud, causing the rest of the class to turn in their seats. Lily Evans cast me a friendly smile.

I snorted once again, looking away from the Gryffindor witch. "It's too early in the morn for that little twit," I mumbled, taking out a scrap of parchment. I quickly glanced around the classroom before looking back into my book bag. Hestia cocked her head, trying to catch my eye. "Who are you looking for, Hes?" I shook my head and continued to rummage through my bag. She leaned in, so close that I could smell the pumpkin juice on her breath. "You promised you would give up this silly pursuit. It can only lead to more trouble," she warned, "Are you prepared for that?"

I took a deep breath and forced a smile. "You're right, of course you're right." Satisfied with my response she turned her attention to Professor Flitwick, who has just entered the room. Trailing a bit behind him was Caradoc Dearborn. Our eyes met for a brief moment before he hastily blinked and looked away. I followed him as he took his seat a few rows ahead of us, running a hand through his dark hair.

Hestia dragged her sharpened quill down my hand, leaving a long trail of emerald green ink. "Stop it," she hissed, shaking me from my daze. "You and I are going to have a nice chat after class."

I anxiously counted the minutes, the end of class looming ever nearer. At half-past two, Professor Flitwick dismissed us. "Have a joyous Yule everyone!" he sang, sending a throng of students rushing to leave the room.

Hestia took her time in gathering up her books, patiently stowing things away in her pack. Finally when she could wait no longer, she turned to me. "I understand that you think you're... _attracted_ to that Mudblood Dearborn, but it's just a phase you're going through. It's called slumming and a lot of Purebloods experience it. I know, because I _too_ went through something similar," she admitted, as we navigated our way back to the Ravenclaw Tower. "But you mustn't heed those urges, you have to move past them."

I nodded in silent agreement. We reached the painting of Cliodna and I absentmindedly muttered, _"Paracelsus,"_ making the portrait swing open. We made our way inside and collapsed onto the large, leather couch. "Are we understanding each other, than?" asked Hestia, "You'll finally let go of this little crush you're keeping for Dearborn?"

"My ears are burning," Caradoc chuckled, coming down the stairs. "That is, unless you were talking about my da. For your sake I hope you weren't." I could feel my cheeks reddening and turned to stare into the fireplace. "You don't really think we would waste precious seconds talking about you, do you?" she replied with a rather bored tone. Caradoc forced a smile and continued on his way. She looked to me, as if daring me to challenge her.

"We can't all land proper wizards like Regulus," I teased, "Even if he is a year younger than you." Hestia shrugged and picked at her fingernails, "Doesn't matter; prick his finger and it's worth it's drop in Galleons." I frowned, "That doesn't even make sense."

A tawny barn owl flew into the common room, dropped a letter into my lap and flew back out. I stared at the roll of parchment with dread. I knew what words it contained and was not looking forward to reading it. Hestia looked at me worriedly, the kind side of her returning (for it was always waiting beneath the surface). "You don't have to read it," she suggested, "Just throw it away. Better, I'll do it for you."

I clutched the letter against my chest, "No, I'll read it in good enough time." She nodded, seeming to understand. "Well, the train leaves in a couple hours," she said, getting to her feet, "I'm going to go finish packing." She started up the winding stairs, leaving me to my thoughts.

I turned the letter over in my trembling fingers, holding off the moment when I would finally have to read it. I looked into the crackling fireplace, trying desperately to delay the inevitable. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs snapped me from my thoughts. Hestia smiled at me, dropping her bags onto the stone floor with an ominous thud. "You still haven't read it?" she asked softly, "Maybe that's for the best."

I shook my head and ran a finger under the Ministry seal, tearing it open. The thick, black script made my heart stop.

_17 December, 1976_

_Dear Miss E Vance_

_We regret to inform you that after months of searching, our attempts to find your father have failed. The Aurors assigned to your father's case can no longer be spared, as the War against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named continues. _

_Due to further policies, we must close Mr Nicholas Vance's case before we may move on. Therefore the Ministry of Magic has officially relabeled your father's case from MIA to Death While on Duty. We have yet to find the body of Nicholas Vance, but we must forge on as we have. The Ministry of Magic would like to offer it's deepest regrets._

_Sincerely,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of Auror Affairs_

I read the letter, though the words failed to register. Hestia hovered behind me, glancing over the parchment in my hands. I felt her hand on my shoulder and reached up to take it. "He's... dead," I heard myself whisper, not believing the words that had just left my lips. "No, not necessarily Emmy," she replied quickly. "It just means they've stopped looking. Your dad could still turn up."

I began to cry, silent tears spilling down my cheeks. I hastily made an effort to wipe them away but it didn't matter, they kept coming. I quickly got to my feet. "What am I doing?" I said through choked sobs. "I'm fine; don't worry about me. You have a train to catch." She frowned, reluctant to leave me in this state. "Please come home with me, Em; there's still time for you to change your mind. You know my parents would be more than happy to have you for the hols."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced a smile. "I think what I need right now is to be alone. You understand, don't you Hes?" She nodded reluctantly and picked up her luggage. "Of course. But don't hesitate if you change your mind. I'm sure my father can figure out a way to come and get you." I chuckled a little, the sound catching in my chest. "I'm sure he could. Now go. And don't forget to owl me." She silently slung her bag over her shoulder and exited through the portrait hole.

The painting shut behind her, echoing loudly throughout the room. Still on my feet, I headed up the winding stairs to my dormitory. I was the only one staying behind for Yule, and the thought finally hit me as I glanced around at the four made beds. Mine stood out painfully; the covers tossed haphazardly to the floor, clothes spilling out from my chest.

With a heavy sigh I sank onto my bed, pulling the blankets on to me. I stared at the letter in my hand, which had become crinkled and slightly damp to the touch. "This'll be fine," I heard myself say, "I'll spend the next two weeks up here, hiding under the sheets."


End file.
